


we can stick around and see this night through

by spock



Category: Happy Days
Genre: Drug Use, Drunken Kissing, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You gonna go on a trip with me, Fonz?" Richie asks around his smile, lopsided like he already knows Fonzie's gonna refuse, but he just had to ask anyway, just in case Fonz got replaced by an alien or somethin' while he was walkin' up the stairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can stick around and see this night through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SevlinRipley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/gifts).



> for the prompt:
>
>> richie goes through a hippie phase, but fonzie loves him anyway, and 'hey love might be free, but you better keep it for me, cunningham'

Richie begs and begs for an entire weekend, pleading at Fonzie to score him some acid. Fonzie says no more times than he can count, but he's never been good at resisting Richie, so of course on Tuesday night he sneaks out of the house and jogs half a mile to the not-so-nearest pay phone. Fonzie rings up an old riding buddy of his, one who left to join up with Hells Angels. He asks him if he knows anyone in town who can sell him some of that California Sunshine; price isn't an issue, but it has to be pure, untampered.

He silently suffers through the razzing his friend gives him, listens while Jonny crows over good ol' Fonz finally, after-all-these-years, dipping his toes in the dark side; how he can't believe that the thing that's finally caught Fonz's interest is that fruity drug that drives all the long haired hippies crazy. Fronzie shoulders it all with as much good humor as he can manage, laughs in all the right places but keeps his trap shut otherwise, until he finally gets a name and address.

↓

Fonzie's got no idea how much drugs go for, but he's pretty sure Jonny's connection is scamming him — still, he doesn't want to draw out their meeting for any longer than he has to. He double checks to make sure that what he's buying isn't laced with anything else and then hands over a ten spot for a strip of tabs, hightailing it out of the park as quick as he can, praying to the big guy upstairs that a cop doesn't bust him.

↓

Mr. and Mrs. C go out for dinner and drinks with some friends that following Friday, Mrs. C telling them to be good and not stay up too late a few dozen times before Mr. C gets fed up and slams the door closed behind them to stop her mothering. Fonzie feels guilty, knowing that he's planning to give their kid drugs the moment their car clears the driveway, but that doesn't stop him from shooting Richie a look and telling him to come up to his room.

The gravity of the situation is lost on Richie — that, or he just doesn't care about Fonz's guilt. He scrambles his way up the stairs into Fonzie's loft and plants himself on the bed, honest to god bouncing on the mattress while he waits for Fonzie to follow him up into the room. 

Fonzie closes his bedroom door behind him, mostly out of habit. He roots around in his underwear drawer until he finds the little Altoid tin he stuffed the tabs into, taking the container with him as he sits down next to Richie on the bed.

"You gonna go on a trip with me, Fonz?" Richie asks around his smile, lopsided like he already knows Fonzie's gonna refuse, but he just had to ask anyway, just in case Fonz got replaced by an alien or somethin' while he was walkin' up the stairs. Fonzie shakes his head and pops the tin open, pulling out one of the sheets and holding it between his fingers. Richie closes his eyes and opens his mouth, poking out his tongue a little bit. 

Fonzie lifts his arm up and then hesitates, hand hovering between their chests. Richie looks so young, innocent, like one of those Catholic alter boys waiting to have the body of christ slipped into their mouth — waiting to have somebody take away their imagined sins, because what could a little small-town boy get up to that's all that bad, anyway? — and here Fonzie is, about to pop an LSD tab in there, give drugs to a kid who's never even really had a drink.

One of Richie's eyes peaks open, glancing at Fonzie from under his lashes. He licks his bottom lip and then sticks his tongue out again, wiggling it a bit, side to side. Fonzie sighs and places the sheet on his tongue, holds his pointer finger against the grain of Richie's tastebuds until the thing begins to dissolve, finally pulling his hand away.

Richie snaps his mouth closed and bullies Fonzie until they're both laying down in Fonzie's bed, shoulders touching. It takes thirty or so minutes for the acid to kick in, but once it does it's like a switch is flipped, Richie undulating around the bed like a cat in heat, pawing at his sweater to get it off, complaining about how hot it is inside Fonzie's little room, how his clothes have shrunk; how his skin feels too sensitive in the itchy-heat.

He rolls on top of Fonzie once he's down to his skivvies, pressing his face into Fonzie's shirt, nosing at his pecs through the fabric.

"Why you doin' this anyway, Richie?" Fonzie sighs, finally asking the question that's been spinning around his mind since Richie first came to him with this shit. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, finally decides to set them on Richie's waist, right above the waistband of Richie's y-fronts. 

"'supposed to do stuff like this, Fonz," Richie tells him. He's got his face dug so deep into Fonzie's chest that Fonzie's worried about him not getting enough air. Each of his inhalations has Fonzie's shirt getting pulled up into his mouth, creating a wet patch that has the fabric sticking to Fonzie's skin or Richie's lips, depending on which way Richie's breathing at the time.

"So you're gonna be a hippy, huh? Just like that — from goodie two-shoes to flower child in two seconds flat," Fronzie says, unimpressed. He drags one of his hands up Richie's spine, petting him. "Spread all that love of yours around like it's nothin'? Love ain't free, Richie. What about us guys who try to earn it? Who work for it? Ain't nobody do more for you than me, huh, Richie?" 

Richie moans, gets his arms working again and slips them up the sides of Fonzie's shirt. He touches the skin of Fonzie's flank reverently, like it might shatter or tear if he presses to hard. 

"Yeah," Richie pants, rucking up Fonzie's shirt until it's caught up around his pits. Fonzie watches as Richie nuzzles his face into his chest again, skin on skin this time, Richie's cheek coming to a rest right overtop where Fonzie's heart is. "Yeah, Fonz. You're so good to me."

He peaks up Fonz's way to smile at him, suddenly shy, like he's just now noticed that he's basically been feeling Fonzie up this entire time. That shyness doesn't last long, though. He presses that smile against Fonzie's frown, kisses him, sloppy and uncoordinated. 

Fonzie lets him, kisses him back too, because he's only human, and there's only so much he can take when god gives him exactly what he wants on a silver platter, Richie warm and half-naked on top of him like this. Richie tries to worm one of his legs between Fonzie's, breathing starting to get heavy while he works his dick against Fonzie's hipbone. 

"Ay, ay," Fonzie mumbles, lips clumsy, sorta numb. "None of that." Richie groans in frustration, but he does stop what he was doing, goes back to chomping on Fonzie's lips. 

Richie passes out between on kiss and the next, something that has Fonzie breathing out a sigh of relief. Richie wasn't the only one sporting wood thanks to their little make out session, and he wasn't sure how many times he'd be able to say no if Richie kept on pressing to do something about it. 

He rolls Richie so that he's only half-draped over him, makes sure that Richie's head is on Fonzie's pillow so that he doesn't wake up with a crick in his neck. 

Fonzie stares up at the ceiling and listens to Richie breathe, resigning himself to staying up all night, just to make sure Richie's dreams stay as such and don't dissolve themselves into a bad trip.


End file.
